The Ranch (28 page)

“The writer?” she whispered instead, and Mary Stuart nodded. He currently had two books on the bestseller list, one hard cover and one soft. And he had had a highly respected career. “Is he married?” she asked her friend from New York, and Mary Stuart rolled her eyes at her. She was hopeless.

“Widowed,” Mary Stuart supplied, she remembered reading that his wife had died of breast cancer a year or two before. It had been in
Time
magazine or
Newsweek
. And as a writer, he was extremely respected. He looked interesting too, and Mary Stuart would have liked to talk to him, but she didn't want to be like the people who pestered Tanya.

Mary Stuart and Tanya rode on side by side for a while, and Zoe had already begun chatting with the two physicians from Chicago. Tanya was right. Doctors always seemed to hang out together. They were both oncologists, and the wife had heard of Zoe's work and her clinic. And they were chatting animatedly as the horses made their way slowly across the valley. There were fields full of blue and yellow flowers all around them, and the snow-capped mountains were looming high above them.

“It's incredible, isn't it?” Mary Stuart heard a voice next to her and jumped as Tanya rode ahead toward the wrangler. Big Max had tired of moving at a snail's pace, and she had given him his head for a few minutes, which left Mary Stuart alone, but not for long. Hartley Bowman had joined her. “Have you been here before?” he asked casually, as though they were old acquaintances, but the atmosphere at the ranch was very informal.

“No, I haven't,” she said quietly, “it's lovely.” And she couldn't help glancing at him as he rode along beside her. He was very nice-looking. He had a clean, tweedy look to him. He had lovely hands, she noticed as he held the reins, and a riding style that told her he rode English. She mentioned it to him and he laughed.

“I always feel a little odd in Western saddles. I ride in Connecticut,” he volunteered, and she nodded. “Are you from the West Coast?” He was intrigued by her, and the group she was traveling with. He had recognized Tanya immediately and wondered how Mary Stuart fitted into the entourage, but he didn't want to ask her.

“I'm from New York,” she said. “I just came out for two weeks.”

“So did I,” he said, looking very much at ease with her, as he smiled. “I come every year. My wife and I used to love it. This is the first time I've come back since she died.” Mary Stuart suspected it was hard for him, but he didn't say it. But she imagined that, having been there with someone before, it had to be lonely for him. “A lot of people come here from the East. It's really worth the trip. I come here for the mountains,” he confessed, glancing at them. In truth, they all did, even those who didn't know it. The others thought they came for the horses. “There's something very healing about them. I wasn't going to come again, and I didn't last year, but I found I just couldn't stay away. I needed to be here.” He said it pensively, as though surprised at himself for coming. “I normally prefer the ocean, but there's something magical about Wyoming, and these mountains.” She understood exactly what he meant. Ever since the day before, she had begun to feel it. It was part of why Jackson Hole had become so popular in recent years. It was like being drawn to Mecca.

“It's funny you should say that,” she confessed to him, feeling surprisingly comfortable with him, considering the fact that they were strangers. But he was so open. “I've felt it too. I felt it yesterday when we arrived. It's as though the mountains are waiting for you here… as though you can tell your troubles to them, and they're waiting to embrace you.” She was afraid it would sound silly to him, but he knew just what she meant as he nodded.

“It must be difficult for your friend,” he said gently. “I was watching the people in the dining room, they were transformed the moment she arrived, and without even meaning to, they became completely foolish. She doesn't get a moment without people reacting to her, wanting to be with her, taking her picture, trying to be a part of her aura.” It was an interesting analysis, but it was true, and it intrigued Mary Stuart that he saw it so clearly.

“It must be difficult for anyone who's well-known,” she said, not wanting to tell him that she had recognized him and read his last six books and loved them. She didn't want to appear starstruck. After being close to Tanya for all these years, she knew just how annoying it could be.

“It has its disadvantages.” And then he looked at Mary Stuart with a smile. He had understood perfectly that she knew him. “But I'm not in those leagues. Few are. There are probably only a handful of people in the world who have to put up with what she does. She seems to be very gracious about it.”

“She is,” Mary Stuart said staunchly.

“Do you work with her?” He didn't want to pry, but he wondered if the two women constantly at her side were her assistants.

“We were college roommates,” Mary Stuart explained with a smile.

“And you're still friends? How amazing. Now, there's a story,” and then he quickly explained himself before he could alarm her, “for a book, not the tabloids,” he specified, and they both laughed.

“Thank you. She gets such a rough break all the time. It's so unfair.”

“You stop being human to them the moment you're a star. You no longer matter, you become human garbage,” he said sadly, and Mary Stuart nodded.

“She calls it ‘life as an object.’ She says you become a thing, and anything they do to you then is allowed. She's put up with a lot. I don't know how she does it.”

“She must be strong,” and then he smiled at Mary Stuart, admiring her impeccable good looks. He loved her style, but he wouldn't have dared tell her. “She's fortunate to have good friends.”

“We're lucky to have her.” Mary Stuart smiled again. “It was really serendipity that we came here. It all kind of happened at the last minute.”

“How fortunate for the rest of us,” he said. “The three of you certainly improve the landscape.” He glanced from her to Tanya, looking glorious, as she loped easily along beside the wrangler, but Mary Stuart noticed that they weren't talking, just riding. “She's an incredible-looking woman.” He couldn't help but admire her, and Mary Stuart nodded with a smile, completely without envy. “I really enjoy her music. I have all of her CD's,” he admitted, looking slightly embarrassed, and Mary Stuart laughed as she smiled at him.

“I have all your books.” She blushed as she said it.

“Do you?” He looked pleased and held a hand out to her and introduced himself, though it was obviously not necessary, just good manners. “Hartley Bowman.”

“I'm Mary Stuart Walker.” They shook hands across their horses’ necks, and rode on together comfortably. Tanya and the wrangler were far ahead by then, the trio of doctors bringing up the rear, discussing articles and research, and some new research that had been done recently in oncology at Mass General.

Mary Stuart and Hartley chatted for a while, about books, and New York, the literary scene, other authors, and Europe, when she said her daughter was studying in Paris. They seemed to touch on a wealth of subjects, and they were both surprised when the wrangler turned slowly around and led them back to the corral. It was lunchtime. Hartley and Mary Stuart were still chatting when they dismounted. And she noticed an odd look on Tanya's face when she got off Big Max and handed the reins to the wrangler.

“Are you okay?” she asked as Tanya walked over to join them, and she introduced her to Hartley.

“I'm fine. But our wrangler is really strange. He absolutely would not say one word to me. We just rode out, and then back. He acted like I had bubonic plague or something. He hates me.” Mary Stuart laughed at her analysis of the situation. She had never met a man who hated Tanya, certainly not at first meeting.

“Maybe he's shy,” Mary Stuart volunteered. He looked pleasant enough. He just wasn't very chatty.

“A lot of them are,” Hartley explained. “The first few days they barely say hello, and by the time you leave, you feel like brothers. They're not used to all this big-city stuff, and they're not as chatty as we are,” he said, and Tanya looked at him with a smile.

“I thought I'd said something to offend him.” Tanya looked slightly worried.

“I suspect Liz told him to behave himself with you, not to say too much. It's got to be pretty impressive for these guys to be around a big star like you,” he grinned and looked like a kid then, gray hair and all, “it even makes me tremble a little. I have all your CD's, Miss Thomas, and I love them.”

“I've read your books, and I like them too.” She smiled at him. It always amazed her when someone important was impressed with her. She never completely understood it. “I like them a lot.” They both looked shy with each other, uncomfortable with their own success to a degree. Each of them were stars in their own right. He seemed much more at ease with Mary Stuart than with Tanya, and then Zoe joined them, saying she'd had a great morning. She'd really enjoyed talking to the two doctors. And Mary Stuart introduced her to Hartley.

“What's your specialty?” he asked amiably as they wandered back toward their cabins to wash up before lunch.

“AIDS,” she said simply, “and related problems. I run a clinic in San Francisco.” He nodded. He'd been thinking about doing a book about it, but he'd been dragging his feet about doing the research. It seemed so depressing. But he was obviously fascinated by what she did, and asked her a great many questions. And he seemed sorry to leave them at their cabin, and said he'd see them at lunchtime. He went off on his own, head down, looking pensive, as he walked toward his cabin, and Tanya watched him.

“What an interesting man,” Tanya commented as they walked into their home away from home, and she took her scarf off. It had gotten hot since that morning.

“He's crazy about your music,” Mary Stuart said encouragingly. She would have loved to see Tanya with someone like Hartley, although she had to admit they didn't seem to have a lot in common. Hartley was very smooth and very Eastern, intellectual but worldly somehow, and very polished. Tanya was so much more exuberant and sensual, not wild, but so alive. Mary Stuart thought she needed someone more powerful to tame her, or at least make her happy.

“He may be crazy about my music,” Tanya said wisely, better versed in the ways of the world than Mary Stuart, “but he likes you, kiddo. It's written all over him. He couldn't take his eyes off you.”

“That's bullshit. He's intrigued by all three of us. You know, kind of like Charlie's Angels.”

“I'll bet you money he comes on to you before you leave here,” Tanya said with total certainty, and Zoe rolled her eyes at both of them and washed her hands in the kitchen.

“You two are disgusting. Is that all you think about? Dating?”

“Yeah,” Tanya said with a mischievous grin. “Sex. Read the tabloids.” But they all knew better. Tanya had always been, and still was, very moral. Perhaps even more so than the others, and she'd always been monogamous, even in college. “I'm telling you what I see. The guy is crazy about Mary Stuart.”

“How crazy can he be? I just met him this morning.”

“Well, his wife died a couple of years ago, right? So he's got to be horny as hell, so watch out for him, Stu. He could be a wild man.” Mary Stuart and Zoe were both laughing at her, as she pinned her thick blond hair up on her head without looking and instantly looked even sexier than she had at breakfast.

“Why don't you wear a bag over your head or something?” Mary Stuart said in disgust. “I don't know why I bother to comb my hair when you look like that without looking in the mirror.”

“Yeah, and look how much good it does me. Even the wrangler won't give me the time of day. Christ, I thought the guy's lips had been sewed shut. He never said one word to me. What an asshole.”

“Are you trying to pick up the wranglers now?” Zoe shook a finger at her, and Tanya looked insulted.

“I just wanted somebody to talk to. Tolstoy or Charles Dickens or whoever he is was chewing Mary Stuart's ear off, you and the docs from Chicago were talking about disgusting stuff that makes my stomach feel sick, and that left me with Roy Rogers. Well, let me tell you, the guy gets an F in conversation.”

“Better than if he got fresh with you,” Zoe said matter-of-factly, “or were some crazed fan asking dumb questions.”

“Yeah, I guess so,” she conceded, “but it sure was boring.” They heard the bell ring for lunch then, and were just starting out the door of the cabin when the phone rang. The three of them looked at each other, tempted not to answer, but they knew they had to. Zoe volunteered to do phone duty. It could have been Sam about one of her patients, or Jade. But it was Jean, Tanya's assistant. She had to talk to her about a contract. She was sending the originals for the concert tour, and a red-lined copy by Federal Express, at the request of her lawyer, and he wanted to talk to her as soon as she read it. Just listening to her made Tanya antsy.

“Okay. I'll look at it when it gets here.”

“He wants you to send it back right away. No kidding.”

“Okay, okay, I'll do it. Anything else major I need to know about?” An employee she'd dismissed had signed a release agreeing not to sue, which was a relief for a change,
Vogue
and
Harper's Bazaar
both wanted to do spreads on her, and one of the movie magazines was poking around to do a really nasty story. “Thanks for the good news,” she said, hating to hear all of it. It brought the big bad world right to her doorstep in Wyoming. She couldn't wait to hang up and join the others.

“Everything okay?” Mary Stuart looked at her with concern. Tanya looked upset again, and her friend hated to see it.

“More or less. Someone's not suing for a change, and some lousy magazine is going to run another ugly story. No big deal, I guess.” But it was as though they broke off a piece of her soul each time they did it, like an old, stale cookie. And one day, there would be no pieces left at all. She would have no soul left. But to them, it made no difference.

“Don't pay any attention to it,” Zoe suggested. “Just don't read it.” There had been some critical articles about her when she'd first started the clinic, but that wasn't the same thing and Tanya knew it better than she did. This was so personal, so hurtful, so invasive, and always so ugly.